


My Love, I Care Not Where We Go, So Long As We Share In That Moonlit Glow (Beneath Brellabrambles And Cookie-Dough Snow)

by DontOffendTheBees



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Engagement, Established Relationship, Fantasy, Fluff, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Snow, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-22 04:30:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13159314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontOffendTheBees/pseuds/DontOffendTheBees
Summary: “Silas,” Panto said, sounding rather breathless himself. “Walk with me.”“Where?”“Anywhere,” he said with a smile that made Silas’ knees go weak. “Through the woods, along the lake, away from these heavy walls and the company they keep- I care not where we go, so long as we go together.”In which Panto and Silas can't stand to be apart, not even for tradition's sake.





	My Love, I Care Not Where We Go, So Long As We Share In That Moonlit Glow (Beneath Brellabrambles And Cookie-Dough Snow)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, chums! It's me! And I have a little New Year’s present for you! What have I got for you, you ask? FRICKEN' SILANTO <333
> 
> These two... I love them. I do, I just, I can't even _think_ about them without smiling like an absolute loon. They deserve all the happiness in the world, and I hope I can give them even a fraction of it with this story.
> 
> So, this is just a little thing, set post-season 2 (with mentions of the Big Horrible Death Thing that we don't like the think about, but this is a happy fic, I swear!), on the night before Panto's and Silas' wedding. Happily Ever After has never felt closer! And I'm still learning to work with these two, with their speech and the necessary prose, so be kind!
> 
> I've also got a [big-ass playlist of Panto/Silas tunes](https://open.spotify.com/user/lilyenrenn/playlist/44kT8fbCcVwQrDIgfv7HYA) if anyone likes that kinda thing- I add to it on occasion!
> 
> Enjoy! <3

“A beautiful night, isn’t it?”

Silas started, flinching despite the familiarity of the voice from the shadows. “Panto,” he chastised, gathering himself and peering down into the courtyard. “You startled me, doofus!”

“Almost as beautiful,” Panto continued, unperturbed, as he emerged from the shadows cast by gently swaying lollipalms. “As you, my love.”

Hardly a new tactic, and yet still it set Silas’ heart aflutter. He ducked his head, feeling his face warm at his charming love’s honey-gold words. “You mustn’t be here, my prince,” he said, leaning wistfully upon the stone balustrade. “It’s bad luck the night before.”

“Tradition, Silas, is for stupid-heads. I never much cared for it,” Panto smiled. He cast his gaze about a second, and when he was satisfied that they were unobserved, took a running leap at the palm nearest Silas’ window. He found the well-worn hand and footholds easily enough, scrambling up the trunk like a banababoona, the route he’d scaled a thousand times as familiar to his clever hands as the hilt of his sword. He swung himself up by the low-hanging bough and came nimbly to rest, as he always did, with his feet on the balcony, toes touching Silas’ through the bars as their hands found each other on the balustrade. “And last time I checked, neither did you.”

Silas rolled his eyes, but clutched Panto’s gloved hands tight. At least he was keeping warm- there was a chill in the air tonight. Fortunately the air was still; even a breeze would surely bite to the bone. “Wygar will whack you for sure if he finds you here- could you not wait seven little hours, my sweet?”

Panto answered his question with a small, sly smile. “So you’re counting, too?”

“...Total guess.”

Panto smirked, though his face softened into earnestness. “Truthfully, my love? I couldn’t sleep. I think I’ve forgotten how, without your arms around me.”

“And I without you in my arms,” Silas concurred, leaning in to press a feather-light kiss to his candid beloved’s cheek. Panto sighed, reaching up to cradle Silas’ jaw in his large, leather-clad palm and draw him close. And oh, how Silas _loved_ for him to do that- how lovely it was to feel so secure, enveloped, held safe and treasured in his gentle warrior’s capable hands.

How wonderful to feel so complete.

“What are you thinking?” Panto murmured, nuzzling tenderly into Silas’ cheek.

“I just…” Silas laughed breathlessly, peppering Panto’s face with more kisses. “Can hardly believe it- how close we are. Everything we’ve seen, everything we’ve done, everything that… happened. And here we are, our happily ever after right round the corner, it’s… it’s all I ever dreamed.” He pulled back, stroked a hand through Panto’s soft hair as he met his blue, blue eyes with a radiant smile. “ _You_ are all I ever dreamed. And tomorrow, all of Inglenook and beyond will know once and for all that I am yours and you are mine.”

“Tomorrow until the end of time, my love,” Panto agreed, eyes crinkling at the corners with the brilliance of his smile.

“You know,” Silas said, playing with a strand of Panto’s hair as it fell into his eyes. “If we went to sleep, tomorrow would come sooner.”

“For sure, my sweet- but why would I sleep when every minute I slumber is a minute I could spend with you?”

Oh, and he was blushing again. Swell. “Hush and shush, nerd,” he mumbled, pulling Panto into a kiss before he could say anything else winning.

This, of course, was surely what Panto planned all along. He melted into the kiss, eyes drifting shut with a sigh of contentment as he drew Silas in closer. Were it not for the balustrade between them, they'd be chest to chest and hip to hip. He wanted more than anything in that moment to invite Panto over, close any last distance and to _heck_ with tradition.

He pulled back, saved from giving in to the impulse merely by being too short of breath to do so.

“Silas,” Panto said, sounding rather breathless himself. “Walk with me.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere,” he said with a smile that made Silas’ knees go weak. “Through the woods, along the lake, away from these heavy walls and the company they keep- I care not where we go, so long as we go together.”

Silas hesitated, glancing back at his chamber door. Wygar slept in the next room, and should he wake to find Silas gone he would not be best pleased. Might even sound the alarm, if he didn't follow them out into the night to chastise Panto himself for leading Silas astray. It was traditional for the grooms to spend the night before the wedding apart, and the Dengdamors were nothing if not traditional.  

His mind carefully considered all of this, but his feet were already halfway over the balustrade. “Just a few minutes,” he said, accepting Panto’s proffered hand down. “If Wygar finds out…”

“Trust me, fraidy-cat,” Panto said brightly, pecking Silas’ forehead as he drew him in close to his side. “He'll never even know you were gone.”

Silas met his gaze with raised eyebrows, and extended his little finger. “Pinky swear?”

Panto smiled, and linked their fingers. “On my honour, my love.”

 

* * *

 

The Man in the Moon bathed them in the silver-blue hues of night as they strolled hand in hand by the lakeside, his great gaping grin casting glittering fractals upon the water. It was a beautiful sight, for sure, though it didn't hold a candle to the ethereal glow of Panto’s fair skin, the clear and knowing glimmer of his crystalline eyes. Or the soft pink of his hair, an almost perfect match for his lips, plush and inviting and beckoning with a sly twist-

“Silas?”

 _Dang it._ “Nothing!”

Panto cocked his head, bemused. “I didn’t ask you anything.”

“...Yes, that’s… the nothing to which I was referring.”

A quiet chuckle was Panto’s only answer, his rosy hair falling into his eyes as he shook his head. His exhale misted in the still, sharp air like dragon's breath. Silas thought then of the stories among the people, of the time Prince Trost slew the bloodthirsty Bumblebeast with a single snip-a-snap of his sword, and wished with all his heart that he could have witnessed it first hand. Well, perhaps not. Despite all the chaos it had caused, he might have struggled to see such a majestic creature felled in the name of the kingdom. But oh, how he _wished_ he could have seen Panto. Seen his chiselled features set in regal determination, fast and poised in his deadly ballet as the fetid, sulphuric breath of the mighty beast ruffled his cape and hair. He imagined it was longer back then, smooth and silky and dancing on his shoulders as he landed the killing blow.

Silas sighed wistfully. Perhaps, one day, Panto might tell him that story himself- but he thought it tacky to brag about one’s past triumphs.

But stories were a commodity Panto possessed in abundance. All Silas had to do was ask for the right one.

“Tell me again,” Silas said, squeezing Panto’s hand and tucking himself into his side. “About your adventures in the other world.”

“You’ve heard it a thousand times!” Panto exclaimed, eyes twinkling with mirth.

“I know-” Silas nestled his face comfortably in the crook of Panto’s neck, eyes drifting shut. “But I love it- to think you were in another _world!_ A fantasy world! It’s… _magical._ ” He breathed in the warm, earthy scent of his betrothed, and pressed the lightest of kisses to his neck. “Please?”

Panto squeezed his hand back, tucking his cheek lightly into Silas’ hair, and feigned a put-upon sigh. “ _Very well._ It all started with Wakti Wapnasi, and her magical pool…”

Silas smiled, and allowed Panto’s steady voice to wash over him as they walked, glistening in his mind like the moonlight on the water. The tale was a well-known, well-loved play of words by now, every cadence so familiar to Silas he could set it to music. Sometimes he felt like a child, demanding that Panto recount his tales over and over like bedtime stories, but how could he feel sorry for wanting to hear his beloved’s voice?

Anyway, if this adventure had taught them anything, it was not to underestimate the power of a story.

He was expecting the hesitation when it came. It always happened at that exact point in the tale, the moment that should have been Panto’s happiest memory of the event. The moment he made his first friend in a new and unwelcoming world.

Silas straightened up so he could look at him. Panto’s gaze had wandered off, across the lake and far away, his thoughts with it. “My love,” Silas said softly, pulling him back with a gentle hand on his cheek.

Panto pulled up a weak smile of reassurance, placing his hand atop Silas’. “I'm sorry, love,” he murmured, tilting his face into Silas’ palm.

“Don't apologise. I know you miss her.”

“I just… wish I knew what became of her,” Panto sighed. “I told her she could stay, here, with us. She was a good friend, I would have liked for you to get to know her better.”

“I would have liked that, too,” Silas smiled. He had met Bartine only briefly, but there was something about her- a refreshing honesty, a bluntness that his mother would have surely hated. He could see immediately why Panto was fond of her: she was a bigmouth, just like him. The only difference between her and Panto was he had a way of cushioning his observations, a voice to charm and a smile to disarm; thrust with a word, parry with a smile. But then again, maybe that was just Silas. He found most everything Panto did charming, after all. “But perhaps this was not the place for her. You have to admit, it seems like everything happened the way it was supposed to, as foretold in the prophecy. I suppose she went where she was meant to be.”

“Perhaps, but…” Panto made a sound of frustration, lifting Silas’ hand away from his face to better squeeze it in his own. “That thing, that power of hers, it's… it's _bogus._ It's dumb. It pushes her around for other people's benefit and leaves her with nothing, it's such a _butthead._ And I tried to tell her that she didn't have to let it win, that she could take control of her own destiny, but… maybe I was wrong. Maybe as soon as her job here was done, the universe scooped her up again and now she's gone, doing what she does and with no idea why.”

“Perhaps she's still here, somewhere!” Silas said, trying to comfort. “Wendimoor is a big place, my love- perhaps she went to explore it. She could be half way to Marshmallow Mountain by now!”

“Maybe,” Panto conceded, but the word rang hollow. “But… I can't shake the feeling that she's gone. And that we may never see her again. What if the last thing she saw here… the last she saw of _us_ was…”

Silas swallowed, the booming rattle of a dozen machines of death echoing in his mind. The sickening slump of his body hitting the floor- the stomach-churning sound of Panto’s doing the same. He couldn’t imagine, what it must have been like to look upon the sight. Panto- beautiful, stalwart, _vibrant_ Panto Trost- riddled with holes and lifeless on the bloodsoaked ground. He hadn't had the time to turn to look at him, no strength left in his dying body to look upon his love’s face one more time before the world went dark.

“Silas…”

Silas blinked. Panto watched him sadly, releasing his hand to brush the tears from his cheeks. Silas hadn't even noticed them beginning to flow. “I'm… I'm sorry, my love,” he said, voice shaking almost as much as his hands. “I don't… I don't like to think of it.”

“I know, darling.”

“We…” Silas swallowed again. It felt like there was something obstructing his throat, making it difficult to catch a breath or let the words he wished to say break free. “Sometimes, when I think how close we came to losing it all. Everything, everyone we'd ever known, everything you and I built together, I…”

“Shh,” Panto breathed, hand sliding to the back of Silas’ neck, pulling him in close. Silas went willingly, burying himself in the comforting solidity of Panto’s body as he felt those strong, tender hands brace him with grounding touches. “I know, my love, believe me,” Panto continued, so softly the sound could have been carried away on the faintest breeze. How fortunate they were for a night as still and calm as this. “I… I can barely stand to speak of it myself, I just…”

His voice had begun to quaver. Silas felt the lightest tremor of his hands against his neck, his back, a tremor he could tell Panto was trying to contain. He almost laughed. His sweet, brave prince- always trying so hard to be strong.

When would he learn?

“It’s alright, love,” Silas whispered, breath ghosting across Panto’s ear, making him shiver. “I know…”

Panto lurched into him with a ragged breath as he enclosed him tenderly in his arms. He could feel the tension in his body releasing, feel him crumbling into Silas’ embrace without hesitation, without fear. Trusting him implicitly in a way he would have never dared dream for, just a few short years ago. Trusting him to hold him as he fell apart, and gather him together when the tide had passed.

Silas had never truly considered himself strong before Panto. Always the disappointment, the weakling, the klutz with the sword and the bobo fool at the banquet. Always walking around with his heart on his sleeve and his head in the clouds.

But he understood, now. Had understood, for a long time- since this gallant, bewitching, genuine man had danced into his life. Understood that there was nobility in peace, a quiet strength in generosity. Understood that theirs was a love of trust, of equality and respect.

He'd always hold in his heart the night he _knew._ The night they lay together under the smiling moon, safe and alone, three little words on the tip of his tongue, desperate to burst free but terrified to do so. The night Panto had held his face, not to kiss but just to behold, trailed fingers calloused by farm work and fighting over his soft skin and whispered with unabashed reverence:

_“What did I do to deserve you, Silas Dengdamor…?”_

Silas had always looked up to the great Panto Trost- the noble, the charismatic, salt of the earth and sword of the people.

That was the night Silas realised that while he'd been looking up to his prince, his love, his one and only… all that time, Panto had been doing the same.

They did not look up to each other anymore. Nor did they look down. Silas saw Panto in a way he'd never dreamed possible- eye to eye, crystal clear, in perfect perspective. His lover, his friend, his rock.

His hero.

And to Panto, Silas was every one of those and more.

He closed his eyes, and held on tight. There were no words, no platitudes. Nothing but the silent promise in his embrace that he could be strong, for as long as Panto needed him to be. That he could cry himself out, weep an ocean of tears if he must, and Silas would always, always, be there to guide him back to shore.

They stood together, intertwined, a small bubble of warmth and compassion in the sharp, unforgiving winter, until they both felt strong enough to rejoin the real world.

Panto lifted his head first with a quiet sigh, running his hand lovingly through Silas’ hair as the tremors subsided. There was a time, long ago, where he might have spoken his thanks, or his apologies for crumbling so. But those times were behind them.

Instead, he said but one thing as he opened his eyes to gaze into Silas’. Just one thing, equally redundant but infinitely more wondrous: “I love you.”

Silas smiled, leaned in, pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I love you, too.”

Something cold touched his nose as he pulled back. He frowned, blinking as he went cross-eyed trying to see what it was, and catching a brief glimpse of white before it dissolved against his skin.

Panto turned his eyes to the stars, and laughed. “Look, my love,” he grinned, catching Silas’ hand and holding it up towards the sky. “Snow!”

Silas followed his gaze, and giggled as another snowflake alighted on his cheek. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d had snow; as the years had passed and the kingdom descended further into chaos, such things had abandoned them.

Panto seemed to be thinking the same. “We really did it, love,” he said, awestruck, squeezing Silas’ hand. “Restored balance to this world.”

Their eyes met. Silas raised an eyebrow.

“Well. We certainly _helped,”_ Panto conceded, smirking.

Silas couldn’t even think of anything to say. He just stared, happy and overcome and so, _so_ in love at Panto, framed by moonlight and dusted with delicate white as the snow settled on his hair, his cloak, his eyelashes like pixie dust.

Panto’s face softened. He took Silas’ other hand, tugging him gently to stand nose to nose with him as the snow drifted down on them both, muffling the soft sounds of nature around them to virtual silence until there was nothing, nothing in the world outside of Panto’s arms.

“I cannot speak for Bartine,” he murmured, holding Silas’ hands to his chest. “But standing before you, my love, I know that I am exactly where I was always meant to be.”

Silas gazed up at him, aglow in the light of the moon and snow, and smiled.

“I was destined to be yours, Panto Trost.”

He could read the “And I yours, my love” on Panto’s lips before he put it there, and he didn’t need to hear it. It was engraved on his heart, anyway.

So he leaned up, took Panto’s soft, snow-damp hair in his hands, and kissed the words away. There had been enough words tonight, and there would be time again for more.

After all, their happy ending had only just begun.

 

* * *

 

Panto could not possibly know for sure how long their walk lasted- although it was surely longer than he promised, and they did rather more than just walk.

But is _was_ a lovely night, and the first snow in two decades- why waste it?

And _oh_ , it was worth it. Just to see the look of wonder on Silas’ face as he tilted his head back, trying to catch the sugar-sweet snow on his tongue. Just to steal that sweetness from his lips with feather-light kisses, listen to Silas’ laughter floating musically on the breeze.

All around them, history was being made in every fallen snowflake, and yet Panto only had eyes for the beautiful man beneath.

Several thoughts occurred to him then, in that moment. Just as they occurred to him half an hour later, as Silas tripped over a submerged branch and landed face-first in a snowdrift. And roughly every thirty seconds in between.

Occurred to him that he was, at this very moment, experiencing the first snow of his adult life arm in arm with his beautiful, gentle, noble soulmate. That it was but the first of many snowfalls they would share, and the only one without their love worn in golden bands upon their fingers. That they were but a few short hours from standing side by side, before their families, their friends, the entire kingdom as they professed their love undying for all of Wendimoor to witness.

That if he had his way, he would do so right now so they need not waste another wretched minute apart.

That he was, surely and without a doubt, the luckiest man in world. Perhaps, even, in worlds beyond. His luck must be a cosmic force. Must be magic beyond measure for his love to stretch so effortlessly to the stars and back, to meet its perfect match and twine their hearts and souls like threads on a tapestry.

Those few short hours were feeling longer by the minute.

“You should get gone,” Silas whispered, clambering once more over the balustrade with Panto’s aid. “Before anyone sees you.”

Panto smiled at him, reaching up to softly brush lollipalm fibers from Silas’ hair. It was hardly a taxing climb from the courtyard to the balcony, and yet his dear betrothed had required all the help Panto could feasibly offer. Sweet klutzy dweeb. “Let them see- they all will, soon enough.”

“Panto,” Silas chastised, though his laughter as Panto leaned in to kiss along his neck undermined his authority somewhat. “We have to at least _pretend_ to be adhering to tradition! We have to set an example!”

True. Unfortunately. Panto grunted in frustration and pulled away with one last, longing kiss, missing the taste of Silas’ snow-sweet skin the second he left it. After all the time they’d spent running through it, childishly rolling and playing in every spare inch until their hair hung lank and their boots squelched with every step, he had to imagine that the taste must be everywhere. Seeping through their clothes, down to the skin, across Silas’ chest and his stomach and his-

“Panto!”

“Yes, love?”

It was hard to tell if Silas was blushing or just pink from the cold. Not without touching his face, that is. So that’s exactly what Panto did, peeling off his sodden glove and tracing cold, careful fingers across Silas’ cheek. Chill to the touch, but warming, rapidly. _Very telling_ , he thought with a sly smirk.

The blush deepened, Silas ducking his head coyly in a vain attempt to hide it. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what, darling?”

Silas looked up at him through his lashes, eyes drawing Panto in like the softest, darkest chocolate, vowing unforetold tastes and pleasures in their depths. “Like you’re about to convince me to set a very _bad_ example…”

Panto didn’t blink, didn’t breathe, suspended on his love’s honeyed words like a puppet on a string, watching, _waiting…_

Until Silas leaned in, warm breath ghosting over Panto’s cold lips, so close he could _taste_ it. An involuntary shiver crept up his spine, shaking loose his bated breath in a short, broken gasp.

Silas rocked back again, a look of bashful triumph on his face, tinged with a longing that he was, and always had been, too noble to indulge. “Patience, my love,” he murmured, tracing fingers along Panto’s jawline, words and touch heavy and simmering with promise. “ _Soon_.”

Panto laughed breathlessly, shaking his head. “So proper, my sweet.” He caught Silas hand, pressing a soft, slow kiss to the palm as he met his eyes. “Since when have you been such a stickler for propriety?”

“What would you rather I be, bossy?” Silas teased, crossing his arms on the balustrade between them. “A rogue? A harlot? A rebel?”

“Are we not rebels by our very nature, dearest?”

“...True,” Silas conceded, but he tilted his head on a knowing smile. “But tell me, Panto, if I _had_ cast my morals aside in a moment of passion and invited you in- would you have accepted?”

He didn’t answer. But his silence, he imagined, spoke volumes.

Silas chuckled, leaning his head on Panto’s chest. “Just as I thought. Face it, Panto Trost- you’re a noble and gentleman. You wouldn’t risk my honour any more than I would, nor would I risk yours.”

“Once again, my love, you’re right,” Silas smiled, raising his hands in surrender. “I bow to your superior logic and moral wisdom.”

Silas rolled his eyes. “Hush, dummy,” he mumbled, straightening up to press a fleeting goodbye kiss to Panto’s cheek. “And scramolous, before Wygar wakes and snips you to bits.”

Panto snorted (quietly). “I should like to see him try.”

“Keep up that attitude and you just might,” Silas muttered shaking his head. Then his eyes widened, and he stilled Panto with a hand on his shoulder. “Wait! It’s still snowing, you’ll freeze!”

“Not to worry- I’m made of strong stuff.”

“Shush,” Silas said, slapping his arm lightly as he cast his gaze about the balcony. “Just… Ah! A moment, my darling…”

He hurried off to the far end of the balcony, to the bewildering tangle of plants growing there in pots and plinths of a plethora of shapes and sizes. Panto couldn’t help but smile as Silas bustled about- Silas _loved_ his plants. Almost as much as he loved animals. He truly had an unparalleled respect for life, a love and a soft touch for everything that would accept it. His gentle nature, it seemed, transcended species. Horses and birds and all manner of creatures great and small answered his call, melt at his attentions. Panto could hardly blame them- such a benevolent, loving touch it was.

Except when it was loudly, clumsily snapping spines from a brellabramble bush in the dead of night, that is.

Silas whipped around, smiling sheepishly as he hurried over to Panto with his bounty in hand. A sturdy, two-foot brella thorn, sharp and corrugated. Panto took it and did what Silas had shown him to do countless times: carefully thumbed about at the base for the whorl in the wood that would open out the ridged outer layer. He found it, and watched happily as the thorn unfurled like a flower, wide and robust and more than a match for the steady patter of snow as it fell. He never would have known about these things were it not for Silas- there were _lots_ of things he wouldn’t know about. But Silas was an inquisitive soul, and he delighted in sharing his discoveries.

“Stay dry,” Silas said, watching proudly as Panto held the brella thorn over his head. “If you get sick for our wedding, there’ll be heck to pay.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Panto chuckled. He deliberated, and then darted in for one last, lingering goodnight kiss, pressing their foreheads together a moment as he pulled back. “Until tomorrow, my love.”

Silas smiled, eyes crinkling. “Tomorrow.”

“Five hours.”

“Four and a half.”

Panto grinned. “You _are_ counting.”

“Shut up.”

Panto finally took his leave, with a mischievous smile and a fond, yearning caress of Silas’ hand before he began the quick, precarious climb to the ground. As soon as he landed he turned on his heel, face turned to the balcony as he blew it one last kiss.

 _I love you,_ he mouthed, with a wink.

 _I love you too,_ Silas mouthed back, evidently holding back giggles. _Now get lost!_

Seeing as hanging around would almost certainly make him abandon the pretence of sleep altogether, he finally obliged.

The land was silent as he trudged across it, save for the crunch of his pointed boots on the virgin snow. The sky was greyer than usual, peculiarly bright, he had no need of a lantern- the snow, it seemed, provided its own light, its own icy glow.

To anyone else, it might’ve been eerie. Not Panto. Panto, as his sister and fiance loved to exasperatedly remind him, was _fearless._

But that wasn’t the case at all. He simply knew- now from first-hand experience- that there were far, far greater things to fear than a little peace and quiet.

And far, far greater things to be grateful for than snow.

He couldn’t fight the grin off his face even if he wanted to, a spring sneaking into his step as he walked the well-trodden path anew in the fresh blanket of crisp, delicious white. As his mind replayed images of Silas, red nosed and dimple-cheeked, laughing and smiling, soaking wet and cold to the touch but still so very, very warm inside, warm eyes, warm smile, warm heart, reaching out to Panto and enveloping him him light and love and joys beyond measure.

Four and a half hours.

Panto didn’t even use the brella thorn the whole walk back, although he knew he should. He just let the sweet snow settle on his hair, his clothes, dance in his vision like the stars in Silas’ eyes, content to swing the brella happily by his side. Content enough to sing, to _dance,_ feeling suspended, treading so lightly his feet barely kissed the heavy snow. Like he was walking on air.

No. He didn’t imagine he’d sleep a wink tonight.

A pity. It really _would_ make tomorrow come sooner.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year, friends- thanks for making 2017 a year to remember <333


End file.
